


A Particularly Good Thing

by pocketfulofsundays



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, One Shot, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:29:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18695167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketfulofsundays/pseuds/pocketfulofsundays
Summary: It's been a month since the Armageddon That Wasn't, and Crowley's curiosity about a very human topic gives Aziraphale ideas.





	A Particularly Good Thing

It can be said with a good deal of confidence that the end of the world, for the vast majority of the creatures* on said world, is a Not Particularly Good Thing.

*[mortal, occult, ethereal or otherwise]

It can therefore also be said, with equal confidence, that the _avoidance_ of the end of the world is _not_ a Not Particularly Good Thing. It may even be considered, among some schools of thought, to be a Particularly Good Thing.

For their part, Aziraphale and Crowley belonged to this latter group. And though exactly a month had now elapsed since the Unarmageddon, one should never pass up an opportunity for a drink; hence, the pair had decided to celebrate the Particularly Good Thing by getting particularly pissed. 

It was, therefore, while in a state of very deep inebriation that Aziraphale first noticed the sound of the old bookshop’s front door opening that evening. Given that he and Crowley were sprawled at the table in the back room, neither of them could see who had entered, but the sound of two young voices gave it away.

“Oh isn’t this place _pretty!_ ” declared a woman who spoke as if she were talking to a baby.

“Not as pretty as you,” replied a man who sounded like he had the IQ of a baby.

The woman giggled, and there followed the sounds of very loud, sloppy and _prolonged_ snogging.

Crowley would have rather liked to move them along himself, but Aziraphale’s expression as he stood and reluctantly sobered up suggested that these particular souls would be receiving holy influence today. The demon rolled his eyes, buried his face in his arms and tried to block out the noise, while muttering something about a certain angel’s forgetfulness and a certain shop’s _closed_ sign.

So wrapped up in their affections were they that the young pair did not notice the appearance of Aziraphale in the shop, nor did they hear him clear his throat, twice politely, and once very loudly and obviously.

The angel was just about to give up and let Crowley deal with them when the girl opened her eyes to stare at the face on which she’d been sucking, spotted Aziraphale, and screamed like a banshee.

There was a burst of laughter one room over.

Unfazed, the angel began, “I am terribly sorry to disturb you both. Just wondering whether I can be of any assistance?”

“Erm yeah, do you have any uh… novels?” mumbled the young man.

Aziraphale had not amassed his impressive book collection by selling said collection to every honeymooning couple that stumbled through his door. Within 30 seconds, the pair had decided that the charming, dusty smell and dim light of the quaint old place was rather more a health hazard than an attraction, and hadn’t they better be getting to the cinema before the film sold out?* 

*[It was lucky that this particular pair hadn’t really wanted a book, otherwise it might have taken them the whole minute to leave.]

“Not bad, angel,” quipped a now sober Crowley as Aziraphale sat himself down again in the back room.

“Yes, well, it’s not that I like shooing people away, but couples are rather _annoying…_ ” Aziraphale looked guilty. 

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me. Making me sober up for no reason– I’d have given them something to scream about.” The demon smiled wickedly.

“Really, my dear,” muttered Aziraphale reproachfully as he poured himself a brandy, “Nobody _made_ you sober up– just because some people have more hormones than sense…”

Crowley looked thoughtfully at his companion for a moment. He looked like he was deciding whether or not to ask a question he’d been wanting to know the answer to for a century or so. Finally, taking a sip of wine with excessive casualness, he said, 

“Have you done it then, angel?”

Aziraphale looked suspicious. 

“Done what?”

“You know,” Crowley waved his hand towards the front room, “ _That_. Sex.”

The angel looked at his companion with disdain.

“I’ve been on this Earth as long as you have, my dear.”

Crowley shrugged, suppressing a devilish smile.

“Sure. Doesn’t mean you’ve done it.

“I– oh for goodness sake, Crowley.” 

The angel rolled his eyes. 

“ _Why_ do you want to know?”

“I dunno, just curious I guess. Anyway, I don’t see why you’re so uncomfortable, it’s only sex.”

“I’m not _uncomfortable_ , but– fine, yes, I’ve done _that_ , happy?”

“Don’t you want to know if I’ve done it?”

“Not particularly.”

“I have.”

“Good for you.”

“Aren’t you happy for me, angel?”

“You’re a demon, I’d expect debauchery of all sorts is rather in your job description.”

Crowley shrugged and leaned back in his seat, 

“Generally, yes, but it’s not like I _have_ to have sex. And what about you– not very angelic of you, tempting humans into bed with you.”

Aziraphale frowned disapprovingly. 

“I don’t _tempt_ anyone to sleep with me, I just... well you know, if they happen to be in the mood for it and I happen to be there...” He trailed off helplessly.

“How very polite of you,” smirked Crowley.

“Well some of us don’t need to– to _command_ people to like them,” bristled the angel, silently praying to Him that his best friend, demon though he may be, would never do anything so vulgar.

“Hey, I never _command_ anybody, angel! I’ll have you know the art of seduction is a very human pastime– one I’m especially good at,” retorted Crowley, silently affronted that his best friend thought that he, demon though he may be, would ever do anything so vulgar.

“Anyway, isn’t your side against lust on principle?”

“Well generally yes, but… of course you know, there are, uh... certain exceptions, or rather the definition of ‘lust’ is rather loose and I mean really, if the person actually benefits from it– goes on to have a lovely day and help other people and such, well, you see, it’s really quite a divine experience–”

“Divine? What, ‘Be not afraid, for I bring you a good shag’?”

Aziraphale did not look amused.

“Of course not. Besides, the last thing I need is Upstairs catching wind of–“ The angel stopped and smiled weakly.

“Well–“

“S’alright, angel. I get it.” 

Crowley had a rather grim expression. 

“It’s all very well to tempt humans, but if Down There knew I was just doing it to avoid putting them through anything actually unpleasant, I’d probably find myself in hot water. Literally.” 

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. 

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“Yeah well, neither, apparently, have They.”

“You know, that’s really quite benevolent of you, my dear.”

Crowley scowled. “Oh don’t you start–“

“No really! I just think it’s– well, it’s very clever,” the angel said simply.

“I’m still doing it for myself. S’just, y’know, every little bit counts.”

“Of course.”

The pair were silent for a moment.

“Do angels…” Crowley looked slightly embarrassed.

“What? Do _that?_ ” 

Aziraphale chuckled.

“Heavens no. Not that we _can’t_ of course, but you know, it’s like dancing, most of them Up There wouldn’t even– hang on,” 

The angel’s expression changed and became suddenly quite serious.

“Are you suggesting… are you saying you’ve erm… slept with… another _demon?_ ”

Crowley fidgeted with his glass, without looking up. He looked uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Well, I mean, in the beginning. Not The Beginning, but y’know, after the Fall, not like there was really anything much to do before the humans showed up…” He trailed off.

“Ah… yes, erm… well, I suppose humans couldn’t really compare to demons in that aspect…”

It wasn’t until Crowley looked up at him with one eyebrow raised that Aziraphale realised he had completely mistaken the demon’s meaning.

“You’re right angel, nothing on Earth compares to getting fucked in a brimstone pit in Hell.” 

“I’m– oh my dear, I am sorry. I misunderstood.”

“S’alright,” mumbled Crowley, suddenly looking rather tired. “It was ages ago, anyway.”

Aziraphale was at a loss for words; he tried to think of something with which to lighten the tone of conversation and drew a blank.

“Tea?” he asked finally, smiling in a way he hoped was comforting.

“Sure,” replied Crowley, resurfacing from deep within his memory to meet the angel’s gentle gaze.

Aziraphale took himself to the kitchen and Crowley was left with his thoughts. 

It was, perhaps, rather odd that both of them still worried about what their respective bosses thought of their misdemeanours, especially since the Not End of the World. Had it really been a month since either of them had heard anything? 

Crowley counted the weeks.

Yes, it had. 

And in that time the angel and himself had wined and dined together almost every other day. It had been probably the most relaxed month of the demon’s long life, and the happiest. No Hell or Heaven to worry about, just him and…

Aziraphale.

Crowley’s mouth went dry. Stupid, he shouldn’t have asked about sex, it was just making his mind go to places it really shouldn’t. 

Or rather, places he would rather it _didn’t_ , especially not with such frequency. 

It wasn’t like he’d never wondered about doing that with an angel; it was just that he’d grown very close to this particular angel, and the idea of being intimate with him– not just bedding him and walking away like he had with countless humans, but actually making love to him– was at once tantalising and terrifying. 

He could still remember the first time he’d thought about it: he’d drunk himself into a stupor in an effort to forget, while everyone around him was busy fussing about the Bastille and revolution; when that didn’t work, he’d fled and gone on a tour of every brothel in Berlin; and when he found his heart still fluttered* every time he saw his best friend and his oldest enemy, he’d given up and slept for a century. 

*[Figuratively speaking, given that Crowley’s heart was mostly there for show]

The sleep and the 1900s had proved a distraction, but not a tonic. It had taken the world almost ending, and his angel almost being taken away from him for Crowley to accept just how much he loved Aziraphale, and how much he wanted his aching longing to materialise into something more.

Crowley had to hand it to humans: they made the most of their short little lives. He thought of the young couple smooching obnoxiously amongst the bookshelves. How he’d love to kiss Aziraphale in front of his dusty old books, to push him up against those damned Wilde first editions of his and–

Crowley groaned miserably, before being swiftly jolted back to reality by Aziraphale striding in with the tea things neatly arranged on a little tray.

“Everything alright, my dear?”

“Ngk. Yeah, just– yeah.”

“I was thinking about what you said, about sex.”

Crowley raised a deceptively casual eyebrow at the angel, who was too busy pouring the tea to notice.

“Oh?”

“Yes, well. It occurred to me that we’ve known each other for– well, a long time, anyway– and yet it’s only now that we’ve discussed perhaps one of the most human activities of all.”

Something about Aziraphale’s tone was making Crowley nervous.

“Where are you going with this, angel?”

“Well I mean, I just think– why not?”

“Why not what?”

Aziraphale finally looked Crowley in the eye, placing a cup and saucer in front of him. He waited until the demon took a sip before answering.

“Why don’t we try it?” 

Gravity should be given credit where it’s due: for a fundamental universal force, it has excellent comedic timing.

The delicate teacup went hurtling towards the ground and found that Crowley’s lap was in its way, but continued nevertheless determinedly off the demon’s knee to chip itself unceremoniously on the floorboards.

A hint of a giggle broke through Aziraphale’s measured facade, before morphing into a wholehearted chuckle. 

Crowley unsaturated his trousers and repaired the fallen teacup with a gesture; mortified and furious, he could only glare. 

“Very funny, angel,” he muttered, standing up to leave.

“Oh, Crowley– please don’t go!” Aziraphale’s expression was genuine. “Forgive me my dear, I just had to know, it was– well I had to be _certain_. I–”

The angel took a step towards his fuming friend. He looked like he wanted to reach a hand out, but thought better of it.

“I really am fond of you my dear,” he said quietly, “And I know you are too. Fond, that is, and well, uh– well, when you mentioned _that_ , I suppose you just took me by surprise. But then I thought about it, and I guess something just…”

The angel shrugged. 

“Clicked.”

Crowley stood, arms crossed, and said nothing. Aziraphale sighed.

“I’m sorry, Crowley. Would you forgive me?”

The demon thought for a moment.

“Buy me dinner and I’ll think about it.”

Aziraphale beamed, hesitated a moment, and pecked the demon on the cheek. 

Crowley responded in kind, but harder, and much more, and on the mouth. It was, he reflected as he wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist, what the humans might call “snogging”.

And it was a Particularly Good Thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Hoorah for my very first fic! Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
